Raised Voices
by Sousaphone
Summary: How dare Jack Robinson raise his voice at her! Phryne is not impressed, even if Jack is only worried about her. Smut, as usual, is included.


RAISED VOICES

Another one-off Jack/Phryne fic.

Hope you enjoy

x

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I love Jack and Phryne together and I wish, so dearly, that they would do so in the show.

. . .

Mr Butler awoke to yelling and was quickly out of bed. He found the origin of the noise in the parlor.

"Don't you raise your voice at me!" Phryne snapped. Her usually quirky demeanor had gone and in its place was cold, hard steel. Anger radiated through her to such an extent that she felt herself shake. She longed, oh so dearly, to pick up the vase standing on the table beside her and fling it against the wall. As a child she had learnt that such displays of frustration made one feel a lot better. But she had also learnt that cold, quiet anger achieved a lot more.

When Jack went to speak, something in Phryne's Jade eyes stopped him. There was all the fire that was being hidden in her cool manner.

Not knowing what to do, Jack tried to reach out, nearly managing to wrap his hand around Phryne's arm and bring him to her. She shuddered and backed away. The heat in her eyes was replaced my something he never expected to see in Phryne's eyes. Fear. Jack was lost.

"Phryne," he said softly. His anger had long dissipated and now all he was left with was the worry that had brought him to Phryne's St. Kilda house in the first place. He had, in the heat of the moment, completely forgotten about Phryne's past history with violent men and he scolded himself for it. Violent anger was not the way to deal with such a woman.

Phryne didn't know what to do either. She wanted very desperately to yell at Jack to get out, that was what she would've done if anybody else had spoken to her in that tone, but she didn't seem able.

Jack watched as Phryne slowly recovered herself. Her back straightened, her chin went up and her eyes cooled over. "I'd like you to leave Jack," she said in a manner seemingly devoid of feeling.

Anger pulsed through him and he forgot the revelation he'd made just moments before. Picking up a glass vase – the same vase Phryne had been considering that was probably worth more than his salary – and flung it across the room. It smashed against the far wall. This time Phryne didn't shudder but held her ground.

"Are you planning on paying for that Jack?" Her voice sounded chirpy but it was still cool, not her usual self at all. Her cool anger was sitting just below the surface.

Jack wanted to wring her neck. He settled for grabbing her face. He stared hopelessly into her eyes, waiting to see some change, something, anything.

Usually in this situation, not that she had been in such a situation in a while, Phryne would have kneed the man holding her in his delicate parts then called for Mr Butler to throw him out. There was no doubt the whole household was awake and standing in the next room half eavesdropping, half waiting for a call to intervene. However, Phryne did not feel at all inclined to injury Jack's manliness. What she wanted to do was sob. The realization annoyed her. She was not some hysterical woman who cried on the drop of a hand, and certainly not because some man had yelled at her. She put the feeling down to the awful day she'd had.

Jack just stood still as this eternal debate happened, seeing it through Phryne's eyes. He had to fight to stay focused and not loose himself in the pools of jade. He was just about to loose the fight when he saw the tear start to form. She didn't break the eyes contact though, no, Phryne was not the type of woman to ever back down.

Again, Jack's anger seemed to disappear and he pulled Phryne into an embrace, holding her head hard against his chest. His lips pressed gently against her cap of short black hair. After a few moments he felt her let go, her hard frame soften and heard the soft, feminine sobs. His heart broke. He very much hated to know that he had brought her to such a state and didn't think he'd ever he able to forgive himself. So he held her and – based on what had been required when his wife had made a scene, a considerably more frequent occurrence than one's made by Phryne – made soft noises to calm her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and kissed her hair ever so gently. Phryne just held onto him and let her sadness come out in waves. She hadn't known she'd been holding up so much emotion inside her and thought it best to let it all out in the one go.

When Jack started to gently pat her head, Phryne had to hold back the desire to laugh. It appeared, she thought, pressing her lips together, that the moment had passed. She took a deep breath then removed herself from the detective's embrace, though not without a slight pang of regret in her chest.

She nearly told him that it was okay, but it wasn't, so she didn't. She did not at all like men who raised their voices at her, especially not in her own house. But she supposed she could forgive Jack. It wasn't okay, but she could forgive him.

"I'm…" Jack started.

Phryne tilted her head and he stopped. "Forget it Jack. All is forgiven. Mr Butler?"

Mr Butler, in a dressing gown far too big for his slim frame, materialized in the doorway. He took a moment to give the detective-inspector a chastising look before turning a smile on Phryne. "Yes Miss?"

"Tea for two please," she smiled, as if nothing had happened. "Then you can all go back to bed. I am sorry for the racket."

"Nonsense Miss Fisher," he smiled, "here to serve."

As he was leaving, Phryne took a seat on the room's love seat and patted the seat next to her. Jack took the invitation, though he would have much preferred the seat across the room. He didn't think, after his outburst, that he was in a position to argue.

Nothing was said as the two waited for Mr Butler to bring in the tea, accompanied by a decanter of whiskey which Jack was thankful for. Phryne poured the drinks, half tea, half whiskey, and they sipped in silence until she heard the door to Mr Butler's room shut.

She tucked her hand in Jack's and was impressed that he did not pull away. "Now Jack dear, do you think you can managed to tell me what you came her to tell me without biting my head off?"

"I can only try," Jack informed her, wishing for more whiskey in his tea.

"Good," Phryne smiled. "Try away."

Jack turned and took up Phryne's other hand, seeing the surprise – though quickly hidden – in her eyes. He took a deep breath. His eyes look into her soul in a manner Phryne found completely disconcerting. "You need to be more careful Phryne."

She smiled mischievously but Jack's look had it turning into more of a pout. "Really Jack d–"

"Phryne," he scolded.

Phryne relented. "I will not make a promise I cannot keep," she said seriously. It was a motto she lived by in every aspect of her life. She was, despite the whispers of many, a woman of honor and she would not break a promise unless she had absolutely no choice. And even then, she thought, she was likely still to keep her word, even if doing so had dire consequences.

"And why can't you keep it?" he asked, his voice rising slightly. Phryne looked at him and he let out a sigh. "Sorry," he muttered. He found it incredibly difficult to keep his cool in the presence of the Hon. Miss Phryne Fisher and was sure she understood.

"A compromise, perhaps?" she suggested

"What do you have in mind?"

"I will continue to act as I wish, even if that means I get myself into dangerous situations," she stated, adding a "but…" when Jack started to look pained again. "…I will try to be safer in my escapades."

Jack sighed knowing that really, that meant nothing, she was always as safe as she could be when pointing a gun at a madman with a bigger gun. However, he also understood that for her, such a promise was a big step. "It would be much to much to ask that you take up crochet and spend your days at home looking after the house?"

Phryne laughed, squeezing the hands she held. Jack felt a pang in his stomach. "You know me better than that Jack."

"Sadly," he sighed.

"Well," she said, leaning forward to give his cheek a brush with her lips. "I appreciate your concern."

She stayed close to him just a little too long, leaving Jack a little too intoxicated by her perfume. The heat that rushed through him this time was not of anger but of pure lust. He could practically see her pulse beating in her neck and longed to kiss it, to feel it throb beneath his mouth…

"I should be going," he managed.

"Yes, I suppose you should," Phryne replied, leaning back only enough to be able to look Jack directly in the eyes, still entirely too close for Jack's comfort. His gaze dropped to her lips momentarily.

"Good night, Miss Fisher."

Neither of them moved.

"Good night," she purred.

Everything within Jack wanted to grab her and bring her close to him, to run his fingers up her back, to form fists in her hair. He could just imagine her slinking over him, running her delicate fingers down his chest as she unbuttoned his shirt. Yet he stood and let himself out the door, leaving Phryne alone on the couch feeling a little too unsteady and all too frustrated.

. . .

I have, for a while now, wanted to write an argument scene between Phryne and  
Jack that ended in her bedroom (or on the floor, or on the kitchen table, or… you get my point)  
but when I started to write it I realized that such just can't happen, especially  
not so early in their relationship. So I hope you like how it turned out.

This _may_ become part of a bigger story which I _may_ write but I am not sure if I will. I enjoy,  
very much, writing these single scenes and truthfully believe that I could not come  
near to the glorious writing of Kerry Greenwood and so do not believe myself  
worthy to try writing an actual mystery. However, you never know.

I hope you liked my story and remember,  
Reviews are the best views! ;)

xoxo


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